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We allowed ourselves to unwind. Downing's discerning eyes darted around our surroundings while Giuseppe closely watched the group. Their quiet dedication to our safety was a comfort, a testament to their commitment.
The yacht carved a path through the crystal blue waves, the mainland becoming a distant memory as Chase revealed our destination. "We're setting course for the north side of the Channel Islands. There's a dead spot in cell and internet service there—unless, of course, you are the FBI." Downing mused, his announcement added an element of intrigue to our journey.
As we navigated away from the shore, Downing broke the jovial atmosphere to brief us on the current state of the case—the reason for our getaway in the first place. His gaze focused, and he began with a serious tone. "Before we get too far into our voyage, we need to discuss our response to Alex’s request for a private meeting with Meagan."
Chase stiffened, his arm instinctively snaking around Meagan's waist. "That's not going to happen!"
Downing, ever the pragmatic, attempted to assuage Chase's fears. "Meagan will be safe, Chase. She'd be behind a solid, secure screen. There is no way Alex, especially in his condition, is going to hurt her."
Chase's face remained stern, but before he could reply, Meagan spoke up. Her voice was soft but firm, commanding everyone's attention. "I want to hear what Alex…what he wants me to know." She laid her hand on Chase's chest, her eyes pleading. "Alex and I, we worked at the car dealership together. You know we even went out a couple of times." A faint blush dusted her cheeks as she confessed this to the group. "It was all before... before I was kidnapped."
Silence fell as her words hung in the air. Ariel, previously lounging in a deck chair, paused in her application of sunscreen to consider Meagan's words. "You know, I'm thinking…. maybe talking to Alex would help Meagan with her recovery." She touched Meagan's arm and turned her attention toward her friend. "You've been through so much since the kidnapping... since losing months to rehab, trying to piece together what happened. I think your visit might bring some healing… for you."
The air grew dense with contemplation. Finally, I broke the silence that stretched out before us. "Really, what harm could Alex do from behind a secure screen?" My voice, stronger than I felt, echoed our collective concerns and possibilities.
After my words resonated in the growing silence, Chase let out a sigh that sounded like a mixture of surrender and frustration. Then, he turned back to the group, his face a picture of resigned acceptance. "Alright," he said, his voice steady but laced with reluctance. "Alright, if Meagan thinks this might help... I'll support it."
Meagan's face lit up in a mixture of surprise and relief. Before she could respond, however, Chase raised a hand to silence her. "But," he continued, holding her gaze, "only if I accompany her to the jail. I'll be right there, waiting nearby."
The look he gave Meagan was one of determination and love. It was clear that while he was willing to compromise, his priority was Meagan's safety. His decision marked the end of the conversation, his tone leaving no room for further debate.
We all sat back in the deck chairs to soak up some sun in quiet contemplation as the yacht pushed further out to sea. After a while, I spoke up. "I'm thinking it might be best for me to wait and schedule my meeting with Tyree until after Meagan meets with Alex. What do you all think?"
I looked around at the group, my gaze searching for answers in their faces. Brad was the first to respond. "I think that's a good idea, Court. We should have all the information before taking the next step."
Ariel, leaning forward in her chair, her brows furrowed as she considered my proposition. "It's a sound plan," she chimed in, her voice softer than Brad's but carrying a similar weight of assurance. "Alex might reveal something that could be beneficial for your meeting."
Meagan, who had been quiet for a while, finally spoke up. Her voice was firm, despite the conflicting emotions visible in her eyes. "I agree, Court. It would be best to gather all possible information before proceeding. I hope I can get something helpful out of Alex."
Chase, who had been unusually quiet, nodded in agreement. "Makes sense," he admitted, his gaze shifting between Meagan and me. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of worry and determination. "We'll work with what we have and adjust as needed."
Not long after, Captain Jose was the first to break the ice, his deep, hearty voice ringing out, "Anyone hungry? Looks like dinner is served!"
"Follow me to the dining room." Chase, always the perfect host, gestured toward the stairs that led below.
Jose clapped his hands and removed the lid from the plates in front of us. The enticing smell of a mix of spices hinted at the delicious meal we were about to eat.
There, nestled on elegant porcelain plates, were the main courses. A delicately grilled sea bass, its skin crisp and shimmering under the soft light, sat atop a bed of sautéed spinach, a lemon-butter sauce drizzled generously over it. A prime cut of steak, cooked to medium-rare perfection, with a side of garlic mashed potatoes and steamed asparagus spears, gave off a comforting warmth. With such a culinary spectacle before us, even Downing, busy setting up his covert communication equipment, couldn't resist a glance at the feast.
Once the tantalizing scent of our meal was replaced with the subdued aroma of rich coffee and the faint hint of a freshly lit Cuban cigar, the mood of our gathering subtly shifted. The men migrated to one end of the long wooden table, clearing away dishes and cutlery to make room for a makeshift poker game. Brad had a deck of cards in hand, a mischievous grin adorning his face, but it was Giuseppe who took on the role of dealer.
"I'm dealing, fellas," Giuseppe announced with a twinkle in his eye, taking the cards from Brad. He drew deeply on his Cuban cigar, which glowed brightly in the dim light and skillfully shuffled the deck.
"Alright, gentlemen, remember the house rules. No cheating unless you're really good at it," Brad quipped, earning a round of laughter. His jest was followed by a thick cloud of cigar smoke exhaled by Giuseppe, the rings he blew hanging in the air as a testament to his craft.
Their friendly competitiveness ramped up, and as the cards were dealt, good-natured jabs and triumphant exclamations filled the room. "Remember, Mitch, you don't have to win every round," Downing teased, his lips curling into a smile. The air hummed with a sense of camaraderie that eased the surreal nature of our circumstances.
On the other end of the table, us gals took turns reaching out to our loved ones back home. Downing's secure satellite connection, an island of technology amid the swathes of gleaming mahogany, served as our lifeline to Martha and Elana. Ariel took the first call, her face lighting up as she heard the familiar voice at the other end.
"Everything's going well here, Mom. The kids are behaving?" Ariel's soothing voice echoed softly.
It was followed by Amy's, "We're safe and sound, Mum. And how's my little angel doing?"
Each conversation was punctuated with shared laughter and words of reassurance that served as a comforting balm amidst the underlying tension that persisted.
The easygoing atmosphere gradually wound down, the yacht gently rocking us with the rhythm of the waves. The quiet conversations at the table lent a comforting aura to the evening. However, the abrupt buzzing of Downing's phone shattered our tranquility.
"I've got a message from Kathy, Alex's nurse," Downing declared, his brows knit together as he absorbed the content of the message. His gaze lifted from the screen to meet ours, the surprise evident in his eyes.
